


Lost

by Fairady



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairady/pseuds/Fairady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the last church, they almost skipped searching this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They find him in a church that looks like it'd been abandoned long before the dead rose. He's on his knees before the empty altar. Skin and bone hands clutching two rosaries and head bowed. They think he's dead at first. The man doesn't move or acknowledge them in any way. Even when the floor cracks under Shane's careful tread. It's not until they're closer that they hear him, see his thin shoulders rise and fall with breath. A reedy thin whisper of sound that's too purposeful to be the random moans of a walker.

None of them knows what he's saying, or even what language he's speaking. The careful cadence of the words and the position he's in let them know it's a prayer he's speaking. One that he doesn't seem keen on stopping as first Rick then Shane try to talk to the man. The gentle clicking of beads is the only answer they get. He's focused so intently that even shaking gets nothing from him.

It's not until Daryl, impatient to move on, speaks up that they get a response. "Hey! Jackass! You listening to us?"

The man jerks at the shout, words stuttering to a halt, and whips around frighteningly fast. Intense blue eyes wide and fixed on Daryl. He staggers to his feet, tilting precariously on legs that obviously haven't been moved in days. A gun they didn't notice before clatters to the floor.

"Murphy," he croaks before he collapses.

~

Cursory inspection of the unconscious man reveals that while he's covered in blood, none of it appears to be his own.

Glenn finds the bag in one of the pews. It's filled with more bullets than they've seen in months. Tucked away under a bundle of rope he finds a wallet. It nearly disintegrates in his hands as he pulls out a long expired green card and a photo. The last is what catches everyone's attention.

It's a group of men in what looks like a bar. Front and center, flipping the bird at the camera, is the man and Daryl. Or at least, someone who looks exactly like him. Right down to the funny little mole next to his mouth.

Daryl shoves Glenn over that comment before storming out of the church. Pausing just long enough to say he'd never seen the man before in his life.

~

Connor wakes up three days later and nearly splits his head open trying to deck Dale when the older man insists there is no Murphy at camp. It takes both Shane and T-Dog to push the ranting man back into the bed they've set him up in and hold him down until he passes out again.

A few hours later, when he wakes again, Daryl is _pushed_ into the camper. Left alone to deal with the obviously deranged man who relaxes when he sees Daryl. Smiles a bright and blinding smile that's full of too much shit for Daryl to handle. That stays there, fixed on Connor's face, even as Daryl explains who he really is. That he isn't whoever Murphy is, that's he's never known Connor.

It only grows as he says, "Missed ye too, brother."

~

Connor follows Daryl _everywhere_ , regardless of whether or not the other man wants him to. No matter how many times Daryl yells at him or shoves him away.

They get into fights every five minutes and have to be physically separated at least once a day. Connor comes out of the latest scuffle with a black eye and seems positively cheerful about the whole thing. Daryl, nursing a bloody nose, growls curses at the laughing man and kicks at Connor's shoes.

"No need ta be a sore loser, Murph," Connor says with a smirk that sends them right back to fighting.

~

The thing is, Connor is very good in a tight spot. He fights like a seasoned bar brawler and can plan like a veteran soldier.

And he always, _always_ , has Daryl's back.

Daryl's lost count of how many times he's almost bought it. Come too close to a geek's face for comfort, or been between bolts at the exact wrong time. Then with a thunk or a bang he's free and Connor's there. Pulling him to his feet and giving him shit for not being able to take care of himself.

Daryl repays him with a punch to the gut and a save of his own.

~

"Are ya cryin'?" Daryl asks. Annoyed and uncomfortable at being woken up by the very obvious sounds of a grown man trying to muffle his own sobbing.

"Fuck you," Connor mutters. Voice thick with his accent and emotion.

Daryl waits. Drifting on the edge of sleep before he hears the zipper of a sleeping bag. He doesn't open his eyes as he listens to the now familiar sound of movement. The sleeping bag being dragged closer to his own in the tent they've shared since Connor got too strong to kick out every night.

Connor flops back down into his bag. Close enough that's he's one long line of heat down Daryl's side. One arm draping over him in a half-hug that always makes Daryl twitch. Connor snickers, and tightens his hold, "Sweet dreams, Murphy."

"Fuck you," Daryl doesn't return the embrace, but he slips back off to sleep anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meh, someone wanted more. Not sure if I can deliver since Lost and Found pretty much sums up ever other feeling I have about this.

It’s not that Connor doesn’t know his brother is dead. He put the bullet in Murphy’s head himself to be sure he wouldn’t rise like the others.

It’s just easier.

Easier to pretend that Murphy’s still there. That Murphy still has his back as much as he has his. Even if his brother now has a southern drawl and carries a crossbow instead of a gun. A quicker temper than usual, but allowances could be made for the times. For the things they’d had to do.

It’s a delusion, one Connor allows himself, because suicide is a sin. And, sometimes, it’s all that keeps him from eating a bullet. All that keeps him going in this world.

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of this fic was written by Gemini Morgan over on FF.net called [Lost and Found](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7633519/1/Lost_and_Found). It's awesome and totally how this would end in my mind.


End file.
